


Data Collection

by kingofcriminals (strideer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Just an excuse for Sheriarty porn really, M/M, Marking, Oral Sex, PWP, S3 sparked my interest in sheriarty so heres a fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strideer/pseuds/kingofcriminals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No, it isn't affection, but it's an interesting reaction to him. He needs more data. And it turns out that Jim is more than happy to give him data. Plenty of data."</p><p>(Sheriarty PWP because S3 sparked my interest. No, this isn't related, hush. It's just a porn fic, haha.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Data Collection

Moriarty. Moriarty is danger and violence and a perfect concoction of crazy and sane to make Sherlock's heart thud in his chest. He's dashing and Sherlock feels a stir in his stomach when his appearance flutters into his mind. No, it isn't affection, but it's an interesting reaction to him. He needs more data. And it turns out that Jim is more than happy to give him data. Plenty of data.

John's been out late with a new girlfriend. Sherlock appreciates the time, because Jim's there, snogging the daylights out of him as he's pushed onto the couch. His lips are feverish, quick, hasty; obviously he's being quick to make sure John doesn't arrive in the middle of their coupling. Sherlock gasps lightly, a more involuntary move than any, as he feels a hand pressing against the bulge growing in his trousers. Their lips separate with a faint sucking noise as Sherlock struggles to gulp in air.

It's too fast and he needs him to slow down, to give him time. University was forever ago, and yes, he's ready for it, but he needs a moment. It's sensory overload from long unused nerves and synapses in the brain and he's so overwhelmed that he's shaking minutely.  
"We have approximately 47 minutes before John's arrival. Slow down or I'm going to bust a blood vessel," he hisses, bites Moriarty's bottom lip to punctuate his words, and the criminal slows his actions considerably. Jim's hand on his erection is suddenly soft and he's kissing him in earnest, as if they were loving partners that cared about each other.

Sherlock nearly scoffs at his own thoughts, but runs his fingers through Jim's hair, moaning softly. They weren't lovers. They were just friends with benefits. And not even friends! Sherlock just needs a quick release, and what better way to get to know your enemy's weaknesses than through sex? Jim brings him back to Earth with a nip to his jaw as he unbuttons his shirt, stripping it off of him and removing his own. Sherlock arches slightly as he mouthes down his neck, but flinches when a suddenly hard bite brings blood to the surface. The criminal licks the mark, almost apologetically and lifts his head, a few dots of crimson staining his already kiss-bruised lips.

"Had to mark you, darling. You're mine, now," he says, practically growls against his lips as he kisses him again. Sherlock shudders as cold fingers drag down his ribs and stomach, hooking on his trousers and pulling them down quickly, without even unbuttoning them. Jim mouths down his abdomen, breathing over the tent in his boxers. It makes him groan involuntarily, and fingernails drag down his fairly exposed ribs.  
"Much too thin, Sh'lock. Need to fix that, dear," Jim says, smirking as he leans down and licks the tip of his cock that's peaking from his underwear, flush against his pale belly.

It's enough to make his hips buck involuntarily and he bites his lip as his boxers are slid off of his hips. Jim's suddenly kissing the bones that jut out from his body, lacing what seems like care into the touches as he strokes his dick. Sherlock's breathing heavily through his nose by this time, chest heaving and mind blurring around the edges. Jim kisses his head, runs his tongue over his slit, and all but swallows him whole. It makes Sherlock gasp loudly as heat surges his lower half. It's delicious heat, but he needs more than this. So much more. His fingers tangle into Jim's hair and he hardly remains focused as Jim starts sucking on him in earnest.

"Fuck," he grunts, hips moving up spasmodically in time with the bobs of Moriarty's head. He's enjoying it, making Sherlock lose control to primal desires. Just the thought that he's got him in the palm of his hand makes this more power play than anything. He arches against the couch, moving his hips in any way that he can to get him to move just a little quicker. He complies, just barely, before moving his mouth off of him and licking his underside almost teasingly. It's unbearable torture and Sherlock whines. Actually _whines_.  
"Mori-- Jim-- Please," he gasps, closing his eyes and tightening his grip in Jim's hair.

Jim smirks, standing and slipping out of his trousers and boxers. Pale blue eyes rake over his body and the man shivers with anticipation. He's only fantasized about him, just a few times, but it was never this good. He was perfect, his body toned and sculpted perfectly. Jim's on top of him again, kissing him fervently. He feels fingers pressing against his entrance and he shivers again, but doesn't pull back. Well, he does when a slick finger pushes into him. He wasn't expecting being penetrated. If anything, he thought Jim would have been the one to.. 

Jim stops kissing him, just watching his expressions. It's uncomfortable at first, the friction leaving a gentle burning sensation in his anus, but soon it becomes more pleasurable and he groans softly, leaning his head back with a sigh of pleasure.  
"That's it, Sher," Jim breathes into his ear as another slides in besides the first. It doesn't take long before Sherlock's muscles are tense, four fingers slipped up inside him. He's covered with a delicious sweat and he's flushed from head to toe, pupils dilated, and dick hard and curved against his stomach. He's slick and definitely opened up and Jim soon lines up with his entrance.

"Tested negative for all of them," the man says and Sherlock stammers out a reply that he was also negative for anything. When Jim finally slides in, Sherlock gasps and squirms. He's large and hot and he's just so _full_ that he thinks he'll burst. He moves his legs, wraps them around Jim's waist, and pulls him closer as he bottoms out. The man beneath him is panting and cursing when he starts to thrust. It's euphoric and Sherlock can't help but make every noise imaginable and even some that aren't. Jim's head brushes brilliantly against his prostate and he nearly cries out each time.

"Fuck, Jim.. Jim," he growls, fingernails digging into his back as he arches against him. Jim's making similar noises, but he's quieter than his partner, much more subtle as he bites his chest and shoulder, marks his skin of possession. He can't deal with the sensations, his mind racing, and words flooding from his mouth automatically.  
"Oh gods-. Right the- Fuck!" he groans, rolling his hips as heat begins to boil, white hot in his blood. Jim's thrusting harder, driving into him with a force that Sherlock didn't think he would. The couch moves a bit, the floor creaks, and Sherlock's crying out as white ropes of cum paint his belly and partially Jim's.

It's a sight that Jim would never think he'd see. Sherlock's curls mussed and his face flushed. Muscles tensing and relaxing as his hips jerk spasmodically to his own orgasm. His moans are music to his ears, and he leaves a particularly hard bite to his neck as he releases into him. They stay coupled for a few moments while their breathing calms before Jim pulls out, the retreat giving a satisfying 'pop' as he recedes from him. They're quick to clean up, but neither makes am effort to get dressed, simply collapsing onto the couch, facing each other.

"More data. I'll need another round soon," Sherlock tells him, eyes closed, but an amused smile pulling up his lips. Jim laughs, arms fastening around his waist.  
"As many samples as you need, so long as it's that satisfying each time," he tells him. Sherlock nods, grins, and isn't awake much longer, Jim dozing off soon after. 

\--

The time's 21:57 when John gets home, his coat wet from the rain and his clothes soaked. Should've taken Sherlock's advice for an umbrella. The man would know these things. Probably a smell in the air or how static electricity manifests in-.  
He stops at the sight he sees. Sherlock and his nemesis, Jim Moriarty, naked and asleep on the couch, after they'd obviously had sex. Well, Sherlock is awake, based on his breathing pattern. Bruises pattern Sherlock's neck unevenly. Bite marks and blood smeared on one that would peak out over his shirt collar. Sherlock stirs a bit and he hears a groan from one of them. John doesn't stare for much longer, groans, and just leaves the room.  
"At least make it more discreet next time!"  
Sherlock nearly breaks a rib laughing.


End file.
